everything happens for a reason

this morning, as i was about to grab the free paper i read every morning because i'm too cheap to buy the new york times, a woman came out of nowhere and took the last paper out of the metal street cabinet dispenser thing. the last freaking one.

i see people like her all the time. they hoard the free papers. they take a paper from each bin and stuff them into bags that have seen better days. because of this particular lady, i was stuck reading am new york which isn't really my cup of tea.

i ought to find this woman and thank her. because of her, i read am new york and saw their listings for goings-on about town. there was a listing for the museum of art and design, which happens to be across town from my office. they are featuring an exhibit called 'radical lace and subversive knitting.' oh boy, was i ever happy that lady took the last metro.

yes, i'm going to go one day at lunch and yes, i am a nerd.
i have never tried to convince you otherwise.


and a very happy birthday to my little brother michael!

miscellany tuesday

ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. harry's favorite cup to drink from is his sippy cup with trucks on it. after much cajoling, we were able to get him to drink from it last night. this morning was a little tricky but he ended up bringing the cup with him to the babysitter's.

so while i sit at my desk blogging, i will imagine him telling his babysitter "you see, it took some time for me to decide which cup to use. but my mom-she's really smart, you know?-she just kept at it and it turns out i love this cup. i shall drink from it for the rest of my days." he's probably writhing on the floor, pleading with her to pleeeeeeeease give him milk in a bottle.



tonight i'm attending the cocktail party at work which honors newly crowned appointed partners and senior partners. i had to delve deep into my closet to search out clothing which is not a pair of jeans with a long-sleeved t-shirt. now that i'm all gussied up in a skirt with (polished!) boots and a crisp white shirt and a neckerchief to top it all off, i feel so professional and feminine. amazing what happens when you dress out of uniform. don't get used to it.



this weekend we are planning on going to a large box store that sells norwegian furniture to look at table sets for the kid's room. we've been weeding through mountains of toys and books and gear and through this attrition we are slowly making progress. the husband has long wanted to get them a table and chair set. i want them to have a space where they can go as well, but i'm loftier in my ambitions and rather give them just a surface to work on, i aim to turn it into a "reading corner." i aspire to have them select a book off the shelf and sit at the table and read it. quietly. in reality, they will probably use the table as a launching pad for an acrobatics routineor a way to scale the bookcases to reach the highest shelves.

i almost ordered this set on line from target but i have a plan and since my husband doesn't read this blog, i can let you in on it. i don't really like the table sets they have at ikea but once we are in the store i am going to push for a new sofa. he'll resist. i'll go along with him. then in a couple of weeks, he'll think it's a great idea and i'll reluctantly agree. we'll purchase the sofa and he'll think it was all his idea. and voila! we'll have a new sofa.

also on our shopping list for ikea: a small storage cube to put the new fish tank on and maybe a new lamp for the kid's room.

getting the kids off the bottle makes me want to hit the bottle

it was different with our first.

we had convinced sophie to wean herself off the bottle by leaving all her bottles out on christmas eve for santa. he would give them to the babies born on christmas day. clever you say? yeah, in an emotionally scarring kind of way.

you see, soon-to-be two-year olds can't think so complexly. they don't make the leap from milk-in-a-bottle to milk-in-a-cup. throw santa into the mix and you basically have a fat man breaking into the house to take your baba's. so, when we asked sophie to stop drinking out of a bottle, she also stopped drinking plain, white milk. (that went over real well with the in-laws, whom we were visiting at the time.) the only way we could get her to drink milk was (and still is) to mix an ounce of drinkable yogurt in with it. we've single-handedly kept stonyfield farms in business since december 25, 2002.

now that our son is two, it is high time he gives up the bottle, no holiday icons or traumatizing this time around. we're veterans!

yesterday, we decided enough is enough. our son will get his milk fix from of a cup. how hard could it be? very hard, apparently!

first we tried the thomas the tank engine cup. he hated it. next we tried his tupperware tumbler cup. not a chance. (those cups are only for water, dumb mommy!) then i found a pack of sippy cups in an abandoned nook of our cabinet, still in their original package. those he liked, without the valve that keeps them spill-proof, thank you very much. and so yesterday evening, he finally drank milk from a cup.

this morning, still reeling from the success yesterday evening's milk-from-a-cup drink fest, i gave him his milk in a cup. the very same cup he drank out of last night. no go. he gave me puppy dog eyes.
"drink from the big boy cup! you'll love it!" i said.

i offered thomas on tv. nope. i offered the highly addictive truck fun! on the on-demand kids channel. uh uh. "baba juice? pleeeeeeeese?" he said while fake fainting to the floor. i just kept saying "drink from the big boy cup! you'll love it!"

he kept giving me that look. the one that says "i just got good at asking for milk in a bottle with my words and everything. why are you doing this to me?!"

i did pretty good for a monday morning. i held my ground. for a whole hour. i even turned the computer on and let him watch this, his absolute favorite song in the whole world as the soundtrack to thomas and friends clips. i made him chocolate chip waffles. but when he hugged and kissed me and whispered "baba juice?" while doing so, i folded like a cheap tent.

tonight, if he drinks from a bottle, so will i.

good mood diet

a few weeks ago i read that there is a new diet out there called the good mood diet.

if you follow this "diet" you will eat foods that boost your seratonin levels and leave you feeling super-happy. and you get to eat chocolate. the side effects are weight loss, clearer skin and higher energy levels. how bad could that be?

well, i've come to call it the mood-swing diet because as i was scarfing down hot chocolate for days i was deliriously happy only to be bitter, disappointed and cranky a week later when i couldn't fit into my pants.

i didn't really follow any diet or eat any other food recommendation on the plan because the only thing that really appealed to me was the hot chocolate, but still.....


oscars tonight!
i don't know why i still watch. i almost never go to the movies....or watch anything that isn't animated or produced by disney.

as for what i'll be wearing, i'll be in pj's by target. so much more comfortable than anything badgley mischka could come up with for me.

for your consideration

in honor of the upcoming 79th annual academy awards, i present to you my life, if they were oscar-nominated films. (actual film titles in parentheses):

the constant laundress (the constant gardner)

cinderella mom (cinderella man)

babble (babel)

guess who won't be home for dinner? (guess who's coming to dinner?)

working mom (working girl)

good night and go to sleep (good night and good luck)

the best years of our lives (the best years of our lives)

life is beautiful (life is beautiful)

let me know what your life, if it were a movie, would be called.
submit as many titles as you like, just keep it clean.

mid-week weariness

midwinter break is messing us up.

yesterday, harry opted out of his nap but sophie decided she would have one. that set the wheels in motion for one of those bizarro days that happen sometimes.

because sophie woke up refreshed from her nap, she was a bundle of energy and spunk. at dinner, she was chatty. very chatty. "why do you have ashes on your forehead? why do people do that? when's nana coming? where's daddy? how do you make pizza? know what my favorite show is?"

i was slowly being worn down and after answering many, many questions i began answering them with one word answers. when sophie asked for the umpteenth time "know what?" i answered with a weary "what?"

and then she said, "are you tired, mom?"

i said "no."

and here is where she slayed me. "are you tired of me?" i felt bad.

"of course not! never!" i replied. it's true. really, the kids wear me down but i never get tired of them.

then i noticed harry sleeping in his high chair. he was zonked out, drooling all over himself and full of boogers from his cold. i put him straight to bed, then read two long books to sophie before putting her to bed at 8:45.

at 10:45 pm, sophie was still awake singing along to the hannah montana cd she got for her birthday. damn that nap of hers!

the husband and i fell into bed after lost. i wish i could tell you that the next time i opened my eyes it was light out and the birds were singing but that is so not what happened.

at 1:30 a.m., harry woke up coughing and coughing and coughing. so in i went and gave him some cold medicine and a drink. god bless him, he fell right back asleep.

at 2:15 a.m. i heard a voice coming from their room. "please, god." i started saying to myself. "please don't let this medicine be one of those medicines that makes him hyper." then i thought maybe i was picking up another family's signal on our monitor. next i found myself wondering why another family would be up with a baby singing hannah montana songs at 2:20 in the morning. again and again. then i realized it was sophie all along.

when i popped my head around the door i saw her rocking out to "just like you." "shhhh...." i told her. "you have to go back to bed."

"IT'S OK! I'M NOT TIRED ANYMORE!" she yelled because she hadn't taken the headphones off.

"yes, you are tired and it is too early for you to be awake listening to music." sophie yanked the headphones off, tossed the discman to the foot of her bed and flopped back onto her pillow. "fine! but i'm really not tired."

in anticipation of them getting up early and cranky, i dragged myself from bed at 6am today and steeled myself with copious amounts of coffee. and then the kids had to be woken up at 7:30. bizarre indeed.

festival of baking

yesterday was the festival of baking.

it was freezing and harry has a cold so we stayed in and baked up a storm. chocolate chip cookies, a loaf of homemade french bread and four mini loaves of banana bread. i also managed to cook two dinners: a pork tenderloin with baked potatoes for last night's supper and fried chicken cutlets for tonight's dinner. i rocked the kitchen yesterday.

know what else rocked? my family. that's right. they were awesome, all weekend long. first, the husband was trying to distract harry. from doing what exactly i forget because he wowed me by saying "your mom works her butt off for you guys; don't do that. she works so hard." i know my husband loves me but acknowledgement is not his strong suit so those words? gold.

sophie and i watched america's ballroom challenge on pbs. my refined daughter fell in love with the show. she was impressed with the gowns (one was pink, so that was a no-brainer) and loved the dancing. but she really bowled me over when during one couple's dance she said "oh, mom. this music is just so beautiful." how could you not love that?

every once in a while harry will lock onto a phrase that makes sense to no one else but him. so, every time i asked harry a question on saturday, his stock response was "box of cheese."

mom: "would you like pancakes for breakfast?"
harry: "box of cheese!"

mom: "time for your nap!"
harry: "box of cheese!"

mom: "come take your vitamin."
harry: "box of cheese!"

we still have no idea what he means.

had dinner with my friend lindsay on sunday night at a little cuban restaurant in our neighborhood. we each got different versions of hangar steak quesadillas and split them. to say they rocked underestimates their deliciousness.

still no names for the fish but harry's fish, which is almost purely orange, may be named "carrot."

new fish on the block

we are now the proud owners of two ryukin goldfish. names still to be determined. it seems stinky and smelly are no longer en vogue with our six year old. our two year old could care less.

one fish is white with a calico-like black-orange pattern. the other is all gold with the faintest bit of black at the edge of his fins. they are tiny, maybe an inch long, and so cute. even i am taken with them.

please say a prayer that they are of the same sex. we don't want babies. i would have asked at the store if they knew but they could barely keep track of the pen at the register for credit card customers and i just thought i ought to not tax them.

in other news, we took the kids to church today and they actually behaved. they were amazing.

oh, and happy lunar new year to you! may you have a healthy and prosperous year of the pig. gung hay fat choy!

any one got a spare bridge lying around they'd like to sell me?

i thought losing nemo was too much for our daughter to bear because she hasn't mentioned getting another fish at all. sure, she's asked for puppies, a parrot and a rabbit but not another fish.

until last night.

suddenly, there is a hole in her heart only a new fish can fill. guess where i'm going this afternoon? that's right. the pet store. to buy what? fish. and what am i? a sucker.

then my husband got the brilliant idea to get not goldfish. "get small fish, like your brother has in his tanks," he said. sounds simple. it isn't. those fish require a heater. and a better filter. and more stuff to enable them to live in captivity. we're getting goldfish.

at first she wanted three. she was going to name them smelly, smelly and smelly. then i said "how about just getting two fish?" she was all over that. "ok! i'll name mine smelly and my brother's fish will be named thomas." the husband suggested irving, i'm gunning for marvin. but since it is for her brother, he gets to name it. since he's two, he'll probably come up with something brilliant, like fishy.

fear and loathing of mid-winter break

so as the daughter and i were playing soccer with a big piece of dirty new york city snow this morning, we saw one of her classmates and his dad on the way into school. the dad mentioned that today is the last day of school before vacation. i was all "oh, that's nice. you're going on vacation." and then it hit me. we're all on vacation. there is no school next week. ohmigod! no. school. as in, like, non-attendence of insitution of learning for 5 whole days.

once i was able to get my heart to resume its normal beating pattern i remembered there is going to be a lot to do next week. i'm off on monday for president's day so surely i can come up with a way to torture myself something cultural or educational to do with the kids. and nana is coming into town! i told nana last night, waaaay back when i thought school would be in session "you need to let me know what your plans are next week so i can make arrangements for you to pick up sophie." guess what, nana? no arrangements necessary, come whenever you want! nana also wanted to take sophie to the new "bridge to terabithia" movie. "yeah, if we don't go this weekend she can go with you," i said. guess what nana? you've been assigned! surely the library will be good for an afternoon jaunt for the kids and our babysitter. that takes care of what, four days? not bad. crisis averted. for now.

i'm a dirty girl

marketwire reported today that the clorox company issued a grant to the university of arizona to conduct a study to find out if office spaces were dirty.

so in this study underwritten by a manufacturer of cleaning products guess what the study concluded? go on, guess. yes, that's right! office spaces are filthy! and women's desks are worse breeding grounds for bacteria than men's.

mark my words, there is an ad campaign being developed right now for you dirty, dirty office people.



can i dish on lost for moment? where's penny? seriously, where is she?

at the end of season 2, when locke let all hell break loose by not entering the numbers into the computer and desmond had to use the fail-safe key, there were two guys in what we think is antarctica playing chess. suddenly their computer starts buzzing and the next thing you see is penny taking their call in which they tell her "we think we found him." so where is she? i thought last night's episode would show her at least, i don't know, packing her bags to rescue him or boarding a flight or something. but nothing. nothing! to add insult to injury, no sawyer. i will admit, though, that seeing charlie playing guitar on the street after desmond's failed interview was interesting.

laura bush has it so easy

while her husband is going on and on, yelling at the world that he is the 'decider,' i hope laura bush realizes how easy she has it. because he is the 'decider,' i imagine that when she says "george, what would you like for dinner?" he decisively yells "pork chops!"

our family operates as follows: i plan, shop for and cook the food. the kids complain about it. the husband cleans up. he is responsible for feeding the kids a handful of times each month. all other times, i'm the decider in charge. i keep it simple and have my weekly repertoire of turkey, pizza, chicken, burgers, pasta and steaks. easy fare for the working mom.

but the repertoire we have can be boring. we get tired of the same old stuff. so when we have guests, i reach out to the husband for suggestions to help get out of the rut.

two thanksgivings ago, i asked the husband if he preferred to start the meal with soup or a salad. that's it! the rest of the menu was planned. all he had to do was state a preference for soup or salad, like you do in a restaurant when you order the special. "i don't know. why do i have to decide what everyone else eats?!" he said. (we ended up eating neither.)

last week i asked "honey, you're sister is coming for a visit. what would you like me to cook for dinner when she's here?"

"why do i have to make the decision?" he responded.

"you don't. i'm just asking for ideas. perhaps there is something you'd like for dinner?"

"i don't know. make what you want."

then the daughter became the arbitrator. and she was good at it, too. "guys," she began. "why don't we have spaghetti and meatballs?"

yes, i thought. why don't we? that'll be grand. home made comfort food. easy. my daughter is brilliant.

"sounds good!" i say. "i'll run to the supermarket and pick up the ingredients."

"no, mom. we'll eat out, right dad?"

oh, she's a good one.

happy valentine's day!

what's that? oh, you brought me flowers? how sweet of you. i have nothing for you. sorry.

maybe look in here for some different candy. or, go here to send an anti-valentine. or buy an anti-valentine t-shirt here. and if you don't feel guilty eating gobs of chocolate today, go here to read about fair-trade cacao and child laborers. happy, happy!

so what's with all the scrooge in february? nothing really. i'm in a great mood today....just thought i'd send you some place to bring you down from the stuffed-bear/super rich chocolate/red rose overdose of today because valentine's day can be so sappy. and i loathe sap.


it is finally snowing here in nyc. my daughter is so excited. my son keeps looking at his snow boots as if they were shackles. he pretends he can't walk in them, even though he really can. and like i predicted a couple weeks ago, the storm has its own logo on every news station. nor'easter 2007! yes, it is icy. yes, it is windy. but remember, it is february and winter. this comes with the territory so quit your bitching.


i decided a few weeks ago to order a coat for my son in a size larger than he would normally wear for next winter (i'm such a cheapskate). i ordered it at kohl's for $18. i know! that's so cheap! i also bought him a pair of (chaps) cords for $5.67 and a sweater for $3.82. well, yesterday i received the pants but no coat or sweater. so i called kohl's. it seems they were out of stock on the coat and sweater so they cancelled that part of the order. no warning. nothing. "but both are back in stock, would you like to buy buy them now?" the sales associate asked. um, yeah. i would since i kinda ordered them already. and when the nice lady on the phone (who waived the priority shipping fees, bless her heart) saw how much the coat cost, she commented on my shopping prowess. "wow," she said. i told her "you should see how i rock out at the grocery store."

weekend recap

friday

took daughter to scouts where she celebrated valentine's day with her daisy troop. she came home with new hair accessories, a new hair do and painted nails. she also earned her you-can-never-wear-too-much-pink-eyeshadow badge.



saturday

grocery shopped. bought diapers at target. mailed two birthday cards at post-office. yelled at husband for failing to heed my instructions to never the touch the socks in the laundry basket. (he can't seem to figure out which socks belong where; do you know a six year old that can fit in old navy 12-24 month socks? me neither.) drove to aunt and uncle's house for their anniversary get-together before picking up sister-in-law at the airport. left sock-illiterate husband in car with two sleeping children while i attended get-together for 10 minutes, then left for airport. children woke up at airport. they wondered why there was no party. dinner.


sunday

shipped daughter off with nana laurie for lunch at american girl place. met up with sister-in-law in chinatown. son slept through lunch at restaurant. walked around, picked up some chinese new year decorations for daughter. coffee and pastry in little italy. when daughter returned from american girl, nana asked why there was no party on saturday. explained the kids slept through it. that made sense to nana because she is a rational adult. found out that daughter's explanation for no party is that i lie. pathologically. dinner plans fall through since son won't cooperate. ordered in. watched grammys. sting! with the police! roxanne!


monday

realized diapers bought on saturday are a size too small. took subway to work and was treated to a sermon and the sight of a pretty woman dressed like this on the same subway car:

watched as a nasty guy yelled at the man giving the sermon and decided this is what is so great about living in new york.

it is nice to have people visit. they to remind you to leave the house, even when you don't have to.

my sister in law is visiting us this weekend. as she was heading into the manhattan saturday night to meet up with friends, we were trying to decide what to do on sunday afternoon. we left "up in the air," as we often do, because we are used to not doing much and the thought of doing anything not involving laundry or grocery shopping sends us into a frenzy. plus, we are bad decision makers.

after wondering, "gee, what the heck are we going to do?" i remembered: i live in new york city! that's awesome! there's all sorts of things to do in new york on a sunday afternoon.

next weekend is chinese new year. we could head into chinatown and see if they are sprucing the place up for the big day and eat a cheap lunch. gung hay fat choy!

we could walk around greenwich village and then head to the east village for a katz's mammoth pastrami sandwich. maybe swing by the orchard street shopping district on our way home.

we could go to the meatpacking district and see all the swanky stores that don't sell clothes in mother-of-two sizes and remember back to when "meatpacking district" was a place nice girls never went. ever. (unless you were a lady butcher.)

we could go to a museum. on second thought, the scarring is still to fresh from trying to culture my son at the met so maybe not.

we could head to times square. maybe see the freaky madame tussaud's.

walk over the brooklyn bridge. take a ferry ride to staten island.

the possibilities are endless. i heart ny.



and a very happy 4th birthday to andie's little boy john michael. hope your day rocks!

the talk of the town

i had conversations with at least three complete strangers about the death of anna nicole smith before 6:30 pm yesterday. a phone conversation with a co-worker ended with her saying "hey, didja hear about anna nicole smith?" it was all the talk on the elevators in our office and on the downtown "E" train during rush hour.

with the exception of princess di, i'm not one to be obsessed with celebrity culture. i usually find preoccupation with it a little weird. who gives a rat's ass if brangelina or bennifer or whatever other nickname the tabloids come up with for the flavor of the month do with their time and money? i have enough to do without having to worry about whether britney swings both ways. but you can't deny the train wreck that was the life of anna nicole smith wasn't at least a little bit interesting. she laid bare her tumultuous life for anyone to see: former stripper, playboy bunny, guess? model, trophy wife of an 80+ year old billionaire, diet aid spokeswoman, joyous new mom and grieving mother in the same week, blushing bride a couple weeks later. and now, sudden death.

why the fascination with her death the instant it comes over the wire? afterall, news of north korea's willingness to talk about dismantling their nukes is far more important for society as a whole. there's, like, a war going on. iraq? ring any bells? i think we are obsessed with anyone's misfortune, demise or personal drama partly because it's human nature and partly because it makes us feel better about ourselves knowing the rich and famous have problems, too. but a big part of it is that we can't escape it. when tuning in to just check the weather, we are bombarded by news of celebrity exploits; you need not seek out this information. if you don't live under a rock you can probably name the country madonna just adopted a little boy from.

right about now, lisa nowak is probably breathing a sigh of relief, thanking god for the eclipsing of her 900 mile diapered drive by anna's death.

holy shit!

that was the reaction everyone in my office had upon learning that anna nicole smith is dead.

accept no substitutions

each of our kids has an item-"dolly" for the girl, "lovey" for the boy-that can never, ever be absent for sleeping. they must have this item or all hell breaks loose.

the smartest thing i ever did with my daughter was buying two back-up dollies. the three dollies were in constant rotation. this worked because dolly was about $10 and we could afford to invest in two extras several weeks apart.

the boy, however, is another story. his lovey was pricier. i thought he would be able to live without lovey sooner rather than later so i never bothered investing in a back up. i was wrong. lovey is indispensable. lovey is a sleep aid. a comfort. lovey is necessary.

a few weeks ago i mentioned that i think the boy gets sick so often because of lovey. not only is lovey necessary, lovey is also a dust rag, something to be thrown onto the ground when pissed about having to be strapped into the stroller. lovey is a pacifier. lovey is a petri dish. lovey looks like hell from repeated washing.

my step-mom hunted down a new lovey for the boy. it is lovely. so soft! so sweet smellling. so un-dingy. so intact.

the boy wants nothing to do with new lovey. we try. "heeeeer's lovey!" we say, as if we are introducing johnny carson. harry reaches out for it because he is addicted to lovey but once he realizes that this soft piece of fabric is not the lovey, he throws it to the floor and demands, like the two year old he is, that we give him the right scrap of fabric.

we keep at it, offering new lovey every time we were doling out comfort items. there is no fooling him. he touches new lovey and quickly tosses it aside, insulted that we would have the gall to offer him something so foul.

last night, i washed both loveys together and we finally got him to take new and old lovey together. i think we are wearing him down. it's either that or he senses my despair and is giving his mother a break.

probably the former.

hot topics

when i started this blog, i decided there were certain topics that were off limits. those topics include, but are not limited to, complaining about my in-laws, my family, my husband, my annoying neighbors and my job. this is done to keep the peace with people i love and maintain gainful employment. everything else if fair game.

and it's a shame because if i allowed myself to dish on those topics alone, why, this blog would practically write itself and you, dear reader, would be reading better things. if only i didn't limit myself, i could write about work. i could tell you how "i've been really sick" and "ever since returning from africa" shouldn't be combined into one sentence on a crowded elevator and how it really freaks me people out.




lost returns tonight! woo! hoo!

keep your fingers crossed for me

the other day, my daughter asked "mom, what will my sweet 16 be like?" let me remind you that she's six. six!

i didn't know how to answer her because this is the type of response that has the potential to come back and bite you in the ass. "i suppose we'll celebrate with cake." seemed like a safe enough reply, nothing but cake was promised. surely i can make good on this. fingers crossed!

i have become that mom

it has finally happened. i have become that mom. the mom i swore i'd never be. without even trying, i've arrived.

we take our kids to church. we (meaning the husband and i) like church. we feel it gives us a good footing for the upcoming week of torture working while parenting two children. it helps us stay sane. (or, get us as sane as we're going to be for the next seven days.) the kids on the other hand....

a few weeks ago, we were having problems with the boy at church. he just wouldn't stay in the pew. he was only happy running around doing the church olympics decathlon, which include events such as ring-around-the-baptismal-font, 50 meter sprints up the aisles and everyone's favorite event, escape! in this event, the child athlete escapes the clutches of his harried parent(s) to the safety of the altar. while the sermon is preached. and the candles are lit. and the microphone is on and every word and shrill scream sound is amplified to every person in the building.

this mayhem went on for two weeks straight. i was beginning to wonder why i was even bothering. our pastor very kindly told me that it is ok, this, too, shall pass. no one minds having our son run around and he is pleased harry feels so comfortable that he would approach the altar. it put my mind at ease but i still wish, for the love of all that is holy, that my son would just sit still.

yesterday, was better (he didn't run up onto the altar) but my daughter is the one that pushed me over the edge. our kids don't pay any mind to the service going on around them. i'm ok with that. but i asked my daughter a few times to keep it down while she played with her polly pockets in church. finally i asked her to put them away, it was time for communion. she told me "i'm not going up there." i told her she was, let's go, it's time. i held out my hand to her, sure she would hold it. she didn't. i pretended to shoo her away, thinking that reverse psychology would work in this instance. it didn't. that's when she stuck her tongue out at me. and that's when i became that mom. the chastising mom, the fed-up mom. the mom that took her daughter by the hand out into the lobby and reminded her that "the fourth commandment is to honor thy parents and you, missy, are way out of line!" i may have ended it with "now get your butt up to the communion railing!"

lord, help me.

doing the superbowl thang

i'm the sports world equivolent of the christian who only shows up to church on easter sunday. i could care less about football throughout the season but come tomorrow i will worship at the altar of superbowl. we'll watch the game, eat chili, snack chips with guacamole, drink a beer or two and see if we won any cash in our office pools.

the guys at work tell me i have decent numbers: 2 for da bears and 0 for the colts. when i signed up, the "pool guy" at work didn't seem impressed when i told him that at my first job in advertising i won an office football pool for a regular-season week solely by choosing all home teams. i chose my box because my lucky number was available. grand prize is $300. let's see how lucky that number really is.

get yer pom pom's out

my wonderful mom, cheryl, has quit smoking.

finally!

help me cheer her on:

go, go, go, go, go, go

go, cheryl, it's your birthday!

silly, silly me

if you have a two year old or your child was once two, it is probably obvious to you that they are irrational creatures. if your child has yet to turn two, don't say i didn't warn you.

i remember when my daughter was two i took her to the doctor for a check up. i was distressed. "is it normal for kids to be, you know, so irrational?" i asked. the doctor laughed at me. of course she laughed; she wasn't present at the egg incident:

"want some eggs for breakfast?" i innocently asked one day.

"yes!"

and with such an enthusiastic reply, i dutifully made her eggs.

when it came time for her to eat the eggs, she took maybe two bites. "all done!" she declared.

"no, eat more. healthy!" i told her. she ignored me, removed herself from the chair and went to play with her toys.

i kept at it: "come eat your eggs," "they're getting cold," "you must eat your eggs or no trip to the park today," blah blah blah."

then finally i said "are you going to eat these eggs or not?"

and from the enthusiastic reply of "no!" i threw them away. silly, silly me.

five minutes later, my daughter walked into the room. "where the eggs, mama?"

"i threw them away."

"no!!!!!! eggs! eggs! eeeeegggggssss!" she threw herself on the floor and wailed and kicked and shed rivers of tears while i looked at her dumbstruck wondering to where my agreeable one year old had disappeared.

stuff like this went on and on. i'd ask her a question and go along with the answer. then she'd tell me i was wrong, she really did want/need/like something.

nowadays, i have a two year old boy. last night i asked "ready to take a bath?"

"yes!"

and with such an enthusiastic reply, i dutifully drew him a bath. silly, silly me.

first there was the corralling of the boy to remove his clothes which made him cry. then there was the streaking through the house that is compulsory and ended with crying because he'd hit his head on the broiler handle in the kitchen. i asked again, "ready for your bath?"

he replied "yes!" then climbed on top of his train table. naked.

"let's go, then!" i say.

"no! no! no! no! no! no!" he yelled while stomping his feet on the table.

"yes, it is time."

he yelled "no! no! no! no! no! no!" and i held his hand while we walked to the bathroom. he resisted and i reminded him we're going to the tub.

"ok!" he said while still resisting. finally-finally!-i got him into the tub where he cried because he was wet. so i quickly washed him up and asked "ready for your pj's?"

"yes!"

and from such an enthusiastic reply, i dutifully drained the tub. silly, silly me.

you've come a long way, baby

there's supposed to be a game played this coming sunday. have you heard about? it's for football, right?

you betcha! and today's metro featured a story in the sports section about the famous "super bowl shuffle" video members from the bears 1985 team made. the story also featured a picture of jim mcmahon! the cute one with the mohawk and the sleek sunglasses that had every girl in eighth and ninth grade going ga-ga.

god willing, no one is saying "i wasn't even born in 1985. who is this jim mcmahon you speak of?" and you are all nodding your head in agreement and thinking "yes! i remember him! he was cute." well folks, that was 21 years ago. 21!

and, just to remind you how far you've come, here's a sampling of other things from 21 or so years ago:

"new" coke debuted. and failed.
top gun and ferris beuller's day off were released
wham! broke up
peter gabriel's album so is released, paving the way for lloyd dobler to become a boombox serenader (this whole wiki list is totally awesome)
it was all a dream....bobby ewing was found alive! in the shower!
reebok hightops, leg warmers, acid washed jeans and neon-colored socks, two pairs at a time